"You do not know what our French are when there is a show. They cry for the pyrotechnics, and this is to be superb; the pyrotechnist showed me the sketches. There! look at the first rockets!"
Indeed, brilliant as long fiery serpents, the trial rockets rushed up into the clouds, but at the same time, as if the storm had taken the flash as a challenge, one stroke of lightning, seeming to split the sky, snaked among the rockets ascending and eclipsed their red glare with its bluish flaring.
"Verily, it is impiety for man to contest with God," said the archduchess.
The trial rockets had preceded the general display by but a few minutes as the pyrotechnist felt the need of hastening, and the first set pieces were fired and were hailed with a cheer of delight.
But as though there were really a war between man and heaven, the storm, irritated by the impiety, drowned with its thunder the cheers of the mobs, and all the cataracts on high opened at once. Torrents of rain were precipitated from the cloudy heights.
In like manner to the wind putting out the illuminations, the rain put out the fireworks.
"What a misfortune, the fireworks are spoilt," said the dauphin.
"Alas, everything goes wrong since I entered France," said Marie Antoinette. "This storm suits the feast that was given me. It was wanted to hide from the people the miseries of this dilapidated palace of Versailles. So, blow, you southwest wind! spout, rain! pile yourselves together, tempestuous clouds, to hide from my eyes the paltry, tawdry reception given to the daughter of the kaisers, when she laid her hand in that of the future king!"
The visibly embarrassed dauphin did not know what answer to make to this, these reproaches, and particularly this exalted melancholy, so far from his character; he only sighed.
"I afflict you," continued she; "but do not believe that my pride is speaking. No, no, it is nowise in it. Would that they had only shown me the pretty little Trianon, with its flower gardens, and smiling shades—the rain will but refresh it, the wind but open the blossoms. That charming nest would content me; but these ruins frighten me, so repugnant to my youth, and yet how many more ruins will be created by this frightful